


LUPERCALIA

by danytheestallion



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack Fic, F/M, Halloween AU, Inspired by Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, dont take me serious, just some smut, witches and warlocks stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:27:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26753557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danytheestallion/pseuds/danytheestallion
Summary: Daenerys gets a proper welcome into the world of witches when she celebrates Lupercalia
Relationships: Grey Worm/Missandei (minor), Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47





	1. 01

**Author's Note:**

> * UNBETAED *

01|

THE DANCE

  
  


Daenerys twirls in her dress, the red fabric billowing out like a flower blooming. Her hair was braided into a crown around her head, her makeup done to perfection. Placing the last clear butterfly clip into her hair, Daenerys walks to the other side of the room, where her roommate, Missandei, is finishing off her makeup. 

“Greyworm is going to drop dead.” Daenerys coos to which Missandei laughs, “I’m glad my family has a Lazarus Pit then.” 

Daenerys pinches her eyebrows, “I thought it could only be used on those with your bloodline?” Her friend shakes her head, curls springing back and forth, “An extremely common misconception. Lazarus pits are incredibly versatile. Besides witches are kinda immortal, death by fire and hanging are the only ways to truly kill us.” 

Daenerys thinks back to the vision she’d had after eating the golden apple. The hanging bodies from the hundred tree, the oddly comforting hellfire that had licked at her back. Shaking herself free from the images, Daenerys changes the subject, “Are you excited?”

Missandei nods, “Lupercalia is my favorite holiday. Greyworm spends the week courting me. Virtually I’m a queen for a few days in his eyes.” There’s this dreamy look in her eyes and Daenerys smiles. One of the few friends she had at this school is happy, and that made her happy. 

Missandei turns to her then, “The real question here is are _you_ excited? This is your first year.” She wiggles her eyebrows, “A specific warlock you want to pair with?”

Daenerys blushes, “I think, though I think he might pair with someone else. I am a _summer child_.” but Missandei only scoffs and rolls her eyes, “He's been after you like a puppy after a teat, Jon will pair with you. I know it.” 

Smiling softly, Daenerys fixes her lips to laugh off the assumptions but a loud horn is sounded. Wolf-like and more akin to a howl, it rings in her ears. Missandei pats her leg excitedly, “It’s time.”

**/**

Lupercalia is the witch’s equivalent of their mortal counterparts Valentine’s Day, though the holiday fell on the first week of October. It was a full week of courting, dancing, chasing, and sex. The most sinful holiday of the witch’s calendar, Daenerys had never actually participated in the festivities. She’d went to a human school most of her life, therefore celebrated Halloween during the month. Because of this, and other reasons, Daenerys was given the title of the aforementioned _summer child._

The only one in her level, a _summer child_ was a virgin witch. It was supposedly an insult but Daenerys was proud of her innocence.

Walking into the central hall of the school, Daenerys is awe-struck. The usual bland stone walls are decorated in red and black banners, each having a different depiction of their underworldly God. Their satanic majesty, in all his goatly glory, is immortalized in marble in the middle of the room. Around the statue, colored ribbons lay scattered across the floor. 

“It looks far better than it did last year.” Missandei comments from beside her, “Red and black, quite fitting.” 

“It looked bad last year?” Daenerys asks and Missandei shrugs, “Not bad, just bland. Grey banners on stone walls aren’t exactly my preferred aesthetic.” 

Other students file in, each dressed to do _more_ than impress. “But that's fine,” Missandei continues, “you’ll bring some excitement this year.” 

Daenerys’ eyebrows raise, “How so?” The sly look Missandei gives her makes her shuffle on her feet, “What?!” she exclaims but Missandei only giggles and skips away. Sighing heavily, Daenerys continues to look around, it’s obvious her father used to be a headmaster. The pictures of him and her mother aren’t sparse. 

Daenerys, at first, had been more than a little nervous to start at Dragonstone Academy. Not only would she be coming in the middle of the year straight from a human school, the legacy her father had left behind had done nothing but come back to bite Daenerys in her ass. Maybe she could understand why her father’s decision to marry her mother was frowned upon but _nowhere_ in any book, did it say a warlock couldn’t marry a mortal. 

So Daenerys had been more than pleasantly surprised to see, despite her father’s actions, he was loved as a headmaster. A master of pyro magic, Aerys had obvious influence even from his grave.

As she’s staring at the banners on the walls, Daenerys is bumped harshly, causing her to stumble. Straightening herself out, she looks for the culprit, only to see the ever-growing crowd of students. Snapping her jaw, Daenerys dusts off her dress. A hand, that isn’t hers, coming up to help fix the clips in her hair. 

Resisting the urge to snap at the unsuspecting hand, she forces a smile, “Thank you but I don’t need — _Jon_.”

Of course, it’s the Snow warlock, _the incredibly pretty_ , Snow warlock. “I’m offended, after all my guidance and wisdom, you no longer need me?”

Rolling her eyes at his mock dramatics, Daenerys removes his hand, which has gotten too comfortable playing with the loose strands of her hair. “Hi, Jon.” 

The warlock’s lips pull into a gorgeous smile, “Happy Lupercalia to you little witch.” Little witch, a term of endearment Daenerys had hated at first. “So are you ready?”

Jon shrugs, “The same thing every year, I almost didn’t participate?” Daenerys quirks a brow, “And what could change the mind of the master _Longclaw_ wielder?” The warlock gives a cagey smile, “Why only the littlest witch in our level.”

Daenerys lets out something between a laugh and scoff, only Jon could get away with calling her small. “I doubt that I clearly remember walking in on you having an orgy with half of our level.” 

The snow master rubs the back of his neck in slight embarrassment, laughing nervously he babbles out, “That was different.”

“How so?” Daenerys smarts, her hands resting on her petite hips. She watches as his eyes flash down before coming to rest on her own again.

“It just was. I promise.” He says and Daenerys snorts, apparently orgies where just some run of the mill kind of thing in this world, of course. Better than exercise she supposed. Before Jon can finish his excuse, that horn is sounded again. Pushing his hands into his pockets, Jon rocks on his feet, “See you in the circle?” 

She can’t stop the smile from forming on her face, Jon was a fool but a sweet one. ”Absolutely.” He gives her an appraising look before disappearing into the growing crowd of people around them.

Missandei gives her a knowing look as she approaches. Blushing red, Daenerys pointedly ignores her friend and looks up to the raised podium. The headmistress, Cersei, stands dressed up to her nines, cropped golden hair in slicked waves around her head. 

“Good evening and happy Lupercalia my beloved students.” Her voice is clear and sultry, “Every year witches and warlocks around the world come together to celebrate the festival of the wolves” The students give a range of reactions, from howls to simple claps. Turning her head, she nods to the musician seated below her.

“Alright ladies you all know the rules and for those who _don’t,_ ” Daenerys shuffles into the circle of ribbons and chairs, “When the music stops, sit on the closest warlock to you. Any questions? There’s a chorus of no’s and the musician places a blindfold over his eyes. 

Essentially a rated R game of musical chairs, the first part of the Lupercalia rituals seemed simple enough, find someone to pair with. But that’s where the first and biggest problem began. In Dragonstone Academy, a small but populated school, it was easy to mix up whos with who or who liked who. And because of this, though Lupercalia was a favored holiday, it was a dangerous one. 

Missandei had already told her Jon had paired with the oldest North sister, Ygritte, the year before but she hadn’t been his first choice. A drop-out witch named Val had been, but apparently, Ygritte had maimed the girl. 

_“Poor thing.” Missandei had said, “They were sweeping you her hair for weeks.”_

So of course, Daenerys had to watch her back. Yes, she wanted to pair with Jon and he wanted to pair with her, but was he worth her hair? It was best she figured that out before she lost it. 

In the middle of the circle of chairs now, Daenerys grabs one of the ribbons hanging from the ceiling. She can see Missandei across the room with a yellow ribbon in her hand, eyeing the chair Greyworm was seated in. No doubt she’d be dancing in circles around him, literally. 

Jon isn’t seated too far from him, conversing with a friend. As if he can sense she’s eyeing him, he turns to watch her back. Clenching her fingers, she turned away. She’d pair with him, at least _try_ to, and watch for Ygritte. The girl’s hexes were something to fear but Daenerys had dealt with situations far worse than a bad hair day. 

Twining the fabric around her finger, Daenerys falls into step with the other girls. Making a circle inside the chairs, they all stand on a pointed toe. Missandei gripping her elbow when she sees her wobble. “Just move with the music, alright?” Daenerys nods obediently, “Alright.” 

On queue, the violinist starts with a long drawn out note before the rest of the musicians join in. Twirling on her toes, Daenerys points an arm out and glides away from the rest of the inner circle. 

It was instinct, to twirl and twist along with the arches and dips of the music. To move along with a song she barely knew, a paradox within itself. Swing, twirl, dip, repeat. Over and over again she glides across the floor closer and closer to her destination.

It was almost as if she knew the music was coming to an end and by the Devil, Jon was _right there_. No Ygritte or hexes that’ll get rid of all her hair. Just Jon, and his pretty smile, and his stupid pretty hair, waiting, at least it seemed that way. His hand was reaching out to her, right? 

Daenerys didn’t have time to think, he was right there, so close she could see his pupils dilating. So without much thought for herself or her hair, Daenerys swings into Jon’s waiting hands, dropping into his lap with a soft huff. 

The music comes to an end and she smiles happily, she’d gotten to Jon without being hexed or maimed. Relaxing in Jon’s arms as the musician begins to speak, Daenerys turns to look at her mate for the remainder of the week. “Hi.”

His full pink lips turn up into a smile, “Hi.”

  
  
  
  



	2. 02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * UNBEATED *

02|

THE CLAIMING

Fixed on the rear end of Dragonstone Academy is a range of dense forests, so big it was said that people who wondered in never came back out, no matter whether they were mortal, witch, or warlock. 

Standing on the edge of the woods, several other students surround her. It extremely windy and Daenerys is thankful she’d worn her jacket but still the cold trickled into her bones. Next to her, Jon is unbothered by the weather, having grown up in Winterfell the cold was not something that easily subdued him compared to Daenerys who’d grown up in Pentos with her older brother. All she’d known most of her life was a dry heat, so she shivered whenever the weather dropped below sixty-five degrees. 

Jon laughed softly at her obvious shivering, tossing an arm over her shoulder and pulling her into his side. “Your nose is redder than a cherry.” Daenerys doesn’t answer, simply rubbing the frozen appendage into the fur of Jon’s jacket to warm it up. 

“I’ll be fine just give me a minute.” She says, her teeth chattering horribly in her mouth. Rubbing her hands together, Daenerys chants quietly, “Se iōrves jelmio starts, the iōrves jelmio jēlēbagon, se colder ziry gets, se hotter nyke mazverdagon.” She imagines fire spreading through her limbs, starting from the soles of her feet to the roots of her hair. Surely enough heat blossoms and Daenerys slowly stops trembling.

“You’re quick with heat spells,” Jon concludes, the spell Daenerys had just recited with ease having been one of the many he’d had trouble with. Daenerys hums, “Anything heat or fire-related I tend to take on easily. A perk of being a Targaryen I suppose.” 

“Being an arsonist is a perk?” Jon teases and Daenerys pinches the elbow that’s wrapped around her shoulders. Of course, he can’t feel it but it’s the thought that counts. “I’ll run you through with your wand, Snow.”

They both snicker quietly amongst themselves for a while longer before the headmistress makes an appearance. Cloaked in a black and gold suit, next to her stands her lover, a man named Jaime. It was an idle rumor that he was the twin of the headmistress not that it mattered, incest was not frowned upon in this world. Other pairs of students came to stand next to them as Missandei and Greyworm appeared behind the leader. 

“Witches. Warlocks. Congratulations, you have successfully been matched and made it to the second ritual.” There’s a round of applause as Cersei continues to speak, “Tonight, you and your beloved shall go into the woods and re-enact the claiming. What that means is that each couple shall go into the woods and disrobe, anoint themselves and lie under this blessed Lupercalian moon.” 

“Celibacy is encouraged,” Greyworm says suddenly to which numerous people boo, “in anticipation of the release that concludes the night of Lupercalia.” He continues with a roll of his eyes, “However, should couples be moved to _ conjugate _ , I'm sure the Dark Lord would not oppose.” 

Greyworm finishes with his speech and Missandei steps up, other witches stepping forward holding small baskets. “These baskets hold everything you’ll need for the night.” The witches disperse to pass them to each pair. 

“The goat’s milk and blood are for the cleansing. The oysters and figs are for fertility and masculinity,” Missandei comes to stop in front of them, placing a basket gingerly in Daenerys hands, “and the cherries are for popping.” she says and Daenerys shakes her head with a chuckle. 

“But a word or two of caution my children. Each couple must stay together the  _ entire _ night. And, above all, do not stray from the path. All manners of lust-filled creatures stalk the woods during the Lupercalia. Now, with the Dark Lord's permission, let the claiming begin.” Cersei finishes with a wave of her hand and the blowing of the wolf horn. 

Missandei waves before she and Greyworm disappear on one of the many paths into the woods. Swinging the basket excitedly, Daenerys gestures with her hand, “Lead the way.” 

“Are you sure?” Jon questions having thought Daenerys would want full control over the night seeming as it was her first time. She shrugs, “You’re the expert.” Jon snorts, but pulls Daenerys back into his side and begins the trek down the path. Daenerys isn’t used to these types of trees, it was too hot in Essos for such trees to grow in so densely together. 

“We’re not supposed to stray from the path,” Daenerys says when she notices that they’re at the end of their trek. Jon shrugs, moving around a fallen log and holding a hand out to her, “If it makes you feel better, we're not the only one who’s doing this. Nobody stays on the path, ever.” 

Never afraid of a challenge, Daenerys takes his offered hand, hikes her skirt up, and jumps over the log. “And I thought you would leave me here.” Jon jests and she laughs, “Let's hurry before those lusty devils find us.”

They walk further into the trees before deciding to stop at a small empty patch of pasture. It’s just vast enough for their spread and Daenerys goes about setting up as Jon masks them with an invisibility charm. 

She’s just figuring out how to open the goat’s milk when Jon plops down across from her. He places  _ Longclaw _ back into his jacket pocket, the wolf-pommeled wand gleaming dangerously. Daenerys vaguely wondered what it was like to have a relic such as a wand. The only things she had was her mother’s ring and her father’s grimoire. “Are you nervous?”

Daenerys stops her organizing, “Extremely,”

“About anything in particular?” Jon’s eyebrows raised. 

“Well I mean, I’ve never done this before. Why wouldn’t I be absolutely terrified? I celebrate Halloween during October not... _ this _ .” Daenerys scoffed when Jon outright laughed, “And what’s so funny?”

“If I didn’t know you’re father was a pyro-master, I’d think you were mortal.” Jon shifted to face her, now that everything was placed properly, it was nearly time to begin. The moon hadn’t made her presence known yet so they still had a few minutes to spare. 

“Technically I’m half mortal,” Daenerys shrugged, “I don’t think being labeled as one is bad.”

“They're single-handedly the cause of witch and warlock numbers being diminished throughout history. The Valyrian witch trials? The warlock massacre of Riverrun?” Daenerys shook her head in amusement, though Jon’s constant suspicion of the human race was valid. 

In the distance a wolf howled as Selene made herself known, bathing Dragonstone in red moonlight. 

“Should I ask if that’s your familiar?” 

“Ghost doesn’t howl,” Jon eyed the moon before looking back to her, “You ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.”

/

Daenerys fumbles with the buttons of her shirt nervously. This was the nerve-wracking part, the claiming. Jon had said the mark would only linger a few days after Lupercalia unless the marker wished to make it permanent. 

”Bless the hells.” Jon looks up at her curse, her accent making the words sound much harsher than they actually were. ”You ok?”

Daenerys sighs, ”My hands won't stop shaking.” Giving up and dropping the appendages into her lap. Jon’s eyebrows crease in thought for a moment before he asks, ”Do you- Do you want me to do it?” 

It's most certainly an alluring notion. ”Can you? I mean do it? With the Dark Lord and all.” She totters over her words, not sure how to get her point across without seeming foolish. Jon snorts at her words, ”Half the student body is fucking right now. I'm sure our Lord wouldn't mind.” His words make her laugh as she turns to face him. ”I guess you're right.” 

”Just tell me when to stop, ok?” Jon says and Daenerys nods, ”Ok.”

She listens to him give a shuttering breath before his hands wander down to the buttons of her blouse, her own hands still trembling in her lap. Their eyes lock, and a shiver runs down her back. He begins to slowly unbutton her silk shirt, apprehension lacing his actions. However, once her shirt was all the way withdrawn and her milky breasts were entirely revealed to him, all reluctance flees from his touch. 

Jon drags the cloth off her shoulders, the blouse forming a puddle of crimson fabric around their thighs. The pads of his fingers gliding across her skin, causing goosebumps to break out in their wake. Jon bringing his hand up to her breast, forming it into his hands. They fit perfectly, he almost seemed enthralled with them, her assurance grew more with the groan that left his mouth. 

His eyes found hers, “May I?” 

Daenerys grew flustered, stunned by his question. “Yes.” 

He plunged down, his pouty mouth latching onto her left nipple, suckling, and lapping at it. He applied pressure with his tongue, and an involuntary whimper slipped from her throat. His other hand was splayed on her back, holding her to him as her back bent from his ministrations. His puffs were heated against her skin. His tongue darted out, licking between her breasts to reach her right one, he repeated the same method he did with its twin. Licking, suckling, and flicking it back and forth, with his tongue. Her hand delved into his hair, desperate to hold onto something, a spark ignited between her legs, hot and burning and wanting. Wanting pressure there, wanting friction. 

It's a pleasurable pain, the humming between her legs and Jon’s ministrations, it left her hazy but needing more. Pulling her thigh up, Daenerys fluctuates around on Jon’s lap until she's situated on his leg, his jean covered thigh pressed fully against her mound. Jon's hardness is much more distinguished in this position; pressed against her belly, hot and throbbing.

Jon hums around her breast, the vibrations going straight to her core. ”I can feel you through my clothes.” He murmurs, Daenerys wonders the effect his words would have had on her if she wasn't so out of it. It doesn't matter now though, and all she does is roll her hips. The friction is better than anything she's ever felt, her belly tightening with every sloppy jerk of her hips.

Jon pulls away from her breast with a wet pop, her sternum and chest littered with purple and red hickeys, Jon is satisfied with his work. Dropping a final kiss to her collarbone, he drags his tongue up Daenerys’ throat, stopping only to shove the appendage into her mouth. Dark Lord take him, she tasted  _ marvelous _ , like lemons and strawberry lip gloss. 

“We still need to complete the ritual,” Jon whispers against her lips, maybe if they completed it quick enough they could get back to what they were doing. Daenerys nodded with a breathless sigh and clammered off his lap. 

“You’re gonna have to tell me how this works,” Daenerys eyed the bottle of goat’s blood before handing it to her companion

They only pull apart when the wolf-horn is blown and the moon hides herself again. Daenerys gives a dissatisfied groan, the pulsing in her cunt painful. From the sound that erupts from Jon’s throat, he's just as upset. 

Detangling themselves, Jon stops Daenerys when he notices her beginning to tug her shirt back onto her body. He shakes his head and hands her his jacket, the black leather and fur engulfing her. ”Give all your pairs your jacket?” Daenerys teases as she throws her shirt into the basket.

”No, you're the first.” Jon responds, watching as Daenerys continued to clean their spread. His jacket hanging off of her in the best way, ”And hopefully the last.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little frisky

**Author's Note:**

> its spooky szn


End file.
